Hot Property Read online

  Hot Property

  by

  Lacey Diamond

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  * * * * *

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Lacey Diamond on Smashwords

  Hot Property

  Copyright © 2010 by Debra Lee

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  Chapter One

  It was a mystery to Betsy that her legs went a bit wobbly upon first seeing the stranger who waited for her in the dining room. It could have something to do with the intoxicating scent of his cologne filling the room. Or just the way he held his head as he picked over the literature on the table. Whatever it was, she couldn’t just stand there gaping at him.

  She took a few shaky steps toward him and thrust her hand across the table. “Hi there, I’m Betsy Alexander.”

  The man’s steely gaze swept over her, making her feel self-conscious. Ignoring her hand, he said. “You’re the one handling the open house?” The coldness in his tone was compatible with the steely eyes that commanded an answer.

  Betsy cleared her throat. “Yes, I am.” Something within saved her from shrinking and she stood tall. God knows he still towered over her. “I was just about to lock up. But I’d be happy to show you the house.” Truthfully, she’d be happier if he’d just leave.

  “Well lead the way then.”

  What arrogance, Betsy thought as she moved into the hallway, tempted to look over her shoulder to see if he followed. But unnecessary since the scent of his cologne grew more powerful as it swirled down around her, making her feel half dizzy.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed the home is immaculate,” she began as she climbed the open staircase to the second floor. To the bedrooms.

  A fierce ‘oh no’ screamed within her. What if he’s a rapist? A serial killer. She wasn’t aware that she was practically running up the steps. At the landing, she quickly whirled around to see where he was and crashed into him where he stood on the top step.

  His strong hands caught her around the elbows. His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. When he released his breath, time seemed to freeze while Betsy’s heart beat frantically. Yet, she could have sworn she stopped breathing.

  She got a glimpse of an amused smile and warmer eyes before he quickly let go of her and wasted no time stepping around her onto the landing and took over the lead.

  His move suited Betsy just fine. She didn’t think she could handle more of the unnerving sensations she’d experienced with him behind her as she climbed the stairs. Certain his blue eyes were taking in every inch of her curved hips, outlined by the light colored material of her skirt, which ended just above her knees. She had no doubts he’d given her nylon calves a close look as well.

  It was her turn to get a good look at him as he strode down the hallway. His short dark hair appeared professionally cut and styled. Not a strand out of place. His broad shoulders were covered with a mint green colored short-sleeved shirt that revealed deeply tanned muscled arms. Khaki trousers covered the nicely rounded buns and long legs.

  She watched him open the door to the master bedroom and disappear inside. His absence made her remember why she was here and she dashed through the doorway crashing smack into him once again.

  Betsy grunted from sudden impact before glaring up at him, certain her face shaded red to match the background in her printed blouse.

  Skylar’s hands grasped hold of her arms a second time. “Do you make a habit of banging into people to get their attention, Miss Alexander?”

  “Of course not.” She jerked away from him, from those accusing eyes. A second later she wondered how he knew she was a Miss. She distinctly remembered introducing herself as Betsy Alexander.

  “Then perhaps you should consider having your eyes examined.”

  He stepped around her and back into the hallway.

  For one brief moment, this bold, arrogant and downright rude man had Betsy contemplating why she stayed in this business. She didn’t have time to dwell on the thought. If she didn’t get moving the last potential buyer for Stephanie’s house would get away.

  “Did you see the half bath in the master bedroom?” She rushed down the hall to catch up to him.

  “I saw it,” he answered sharply and opened another bedroom door and took a quick peek inside.

  “Have you noticed the hardwood floors were recently refinished?”

  He lunged for the stairs. “I’ve noticed, Miss Alexander.”

  His hasty descent of the steps told Betsy his annoyance with her had increased. She carefully watched her feet that were fitted into a pair of high heels as she followed him down. So not to break her concentration, she didn’t speak again until they reached the landing. After all, she didn’t dare miss a step and tumble into him a third time.

  “The living room is to your right.”

  “I’ve seen enough,” he said and continued in the direction of the front door.

  It would’ve been easy for Betsy to watch him leave. But she couldn’t permit her dislike for the man to get in the way of making a sale.

  “You really should see the kitchen. It’s absolutely the best room in the house,” she said, prepared to continue at the same desperate pace when she saw him stop cold.

  He cocked his head in her direction. “Do you ever quit, Miss Alexander?”

  Betsy’s face flushed. Only this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. Her temper had flared at an alarming rate. “I suppose I don’t. At least not until I’ve successfully provided a buyer for my seller.”

  She couldn’t believe she’d let the words fly. The nasty overture in her tone blew any chance of making a sale. If she were to offer an immediate apology she might be forgiven. But she couldn’t do it. Even with the knowledge that it would cost her dearly, she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm.

  “You can save a future sales pitch, Miss Alexander. I was just taking a look at the place as a favor to my investor friend.”

  “Investor friend?”

  “That’s right. I’m not in the habit of buying someone else’s work.”

  Her eyes reflected confusion.

  “I build my own houses if that will help.”

  “I see.”

  An uncomfortable silence grew between them. He smiled stiffly. “I owe you a thank you for your time.”

  She wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “I’d settle for the name of your investor friend.” A bold request she quickly explained. “I mean I’d be more than happy to set up a private showing for him.”

  Skylar’s eyes narrowed with puzzlement. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Stephanie told me after today you would no longer be representing the house.”

  Too stunned to speak, Betsy could only stare at him.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Betsy could’ve sw
orn she saw a glimmer of regret in his eyes.

  “Look, it doesn’t make any difference to me if he buys the house through you or Stephanie.”

  Of course it didn’t. He wasn’t the one on the verge of losing a sizeable commission from the sale.

  “If you can convince her she needs you to put the deal together, you can get his name from her.”

  “Thank you for that piece of information.” Betsy was far beyond caring that her voice was loaded with hostility.

  But it certainly didn’t appear to offend him. If anything, he found it amusing when she heard him chuckle as he went out the door. “Have a good day, Miss Alexander.”

  If she had something in her hand at that moment she would’ve hurled it at him.

  “Have a good day,” Betsy imitated him as she stomped down the hallway and into the dining room to finally collect her things. “Well I intend to, Mr.—”

  She snatched up the sheet of paper she’d left on the edge of the table. It was standard practice for everyone viewing a home during an open house to sign in leaving their name, address and telephone number. But as Betsy scanned the list of names there wasn’t a single one she couldn’t put a face with. The mystery man hadn’t signed in.

  ***

  Skylar slid behind the wheel of his pickup and took a deep steadying breath. He’d made it outside without buying a house he had no intentions of owning. But Betsy Alexander sure didn’t make it easy. The scent of her lingered in his nostrils and he sniffed to get one last sweet smell. He savored the scent a moment, then turned the key in the ignition and shook his head. What was he thinking? He was too busy to get involved in a romance, what with his latest project gearing up.

  She really was something special though, he decided as he pulled away from the curb, smiling.

  ***

  “Calming breaths,” she repeated to herself in an attempt to ward off an anxiety attack as she locked up the house and headed for her late model sports car she couldn’t afford. But in the real estate business one had to look the part of being successful.

  A few adjustments to her lifestyle and she’d managed the monthly car payments. The steady diet of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches would seem like a gourmet meal next to the bread and water she’d need to survive on if the bank called her loan.

  She drove across the bridge to the small community on the other side of the Susquehanna River where housing was more affordable and lifestyles were more relaxed. She parked in front of the two story old house she had called home the past five years and remained behind the wheel to study the house. The place needed a facelift. But she’d planned to leave that to her tenant, the soon to be new owner. Or so she’d thought. That plan might not happen now.

  “Sitting here feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to improve the situation.” The words to herself got her out of the car and into her downstairs apartment.

  In a matter of minutes she’d changed into a tank top and jeans. This time when she went out into the late day sunshine she swung her leg over the seat of her motorcycle. Almost the instant she mounted her ride all the tension and worry slid away from her.

  Betsy gunned the throttle, enjoying the feel of the wind in her face. Before long she could taste-smell the clean air of the countryside. Another mile and she’d be at her destination. The fifty acres of farmland she’d found for sale on one of her riding trips several months ago. The land she’d dreamt about making her own.

  On the hilltop in the center of the fifty acres, she’d build her dream house, nothing extravagant, but not too shabby either. Most important of all, it would be brand spanking new.

  From as far back as Betsy could remember she’d lived in a rundown old house. Before her parents separated they lived in an old two-story in town. After the divorce, her mother couldn’t afford a house of her own. The two of them lived in yet another old two story row house that was falling down around them. When they dared mention improvements to the property, the landlord threatened a rent increase, knowing full well they couldn’t afford it.

  Six years ago when her mother passed on after a long battle with cancer, Betsy made a promise to herself. She vowed she’d have a brand new house of her own before she reached thirty. Never mind she had no idea how she’d get it. A year later at age twenty-one and working as a secretary for a local real estate firm she knew how she’d achieve her goal. Or at least started working on a plan.

  Her boss needed some quick capital and offered her a decent deal on a rental property he owned, a duplex. The rent she received from the upstairs apartment nearly covered the mortgage payment. So what if it was another old two-story in need of repair. It was a starting place.

  She’d live in the downstairs apartment for five years while she built up equity. Then she’d use that equity to buy a piece of land for her new home, her dream house.

  That was around the time she passed the state real estate examination and became a licensed agent. Four years under her belt and the required courses, she went for her broker’s license. And just in the nick of time. Her boss unexpectedly announced he’d sold the agency to a man moving into the area. The new owner planned to bring in his own sales force.

  Betsy resented the fact he went behind everyone’s back in making the sale. The least he could’ve done was offer it to one of his six agents. To spring it on them after the fact was a low blow. But she should’ve known.

  From the day her father walked out on her and her mom she lost all faith in the opposite sex. Men weren’t to be trusted or depended upon.

  The betrayal by her boss had Betsy making another promise to herself. Never again would she let down her guard around a man. Or have one for a boss. The same day she convinced her friend since grade school to go into business with her.

  Mary protested at first. She didn’t think they’d be able to compete with the established agencies in the area. Betsy insisted they could, and do it successfully. But she hadn’t predicted the housing market to go into a slump for at least another year. By then, their business would be off and running. But the way things stood now, it would take nothing less than a miracle to save the business, which Betsy refused to think about again until she finished her ride.

  She eased off the throttle and coasted the last several feet to where the ‘for sale’ by owner sign had been pounded into the weeds a short distance off the side of the road. But the sign was gone.

  Chapter Two

  Betsy rolled out of bed at the crack of dawn Monday morning. She felt anything but perky after only a few hours of restless sleep. Her on and off again dozing had been haunted by the sound of Stephanie’s wicked cackling left over from their late night rendezvous.

  “There’s nothing underhanded about saving thousands of dollars in commission by selling the house myself, Betsy.” Stephanie told her from her seat across the table in the country club lounge where they’d agreed to meet.

  Instinct flashed warning to Betsy, the model thin woman sipping blood red wine wasn’t quite finished making what she’d done sound perfectly acceptable. But Betsy decided she didn’t want to hear more excuses or lies.

  “If you’re certain you no longer require the services of The Alexander and Gold Real Estate Agency there’s no point in further discussion.”

  Betsy stood with all intentions of leaving.

  “Not unless you want to talk me into signing that extension on the listing contract, should my investor choose to walk. Which I feel is a strong possibility.”

  Betsy debated what to do. She desperately wanted to walk away without a glance back. But common sense told her not to hesitate a second longer in sitting back down and closing the deal. “But of course there are more reputable agencies I could go with.” Stephanie tacked on after Betsy remained standing silent for so long.

  “Then why don’t you give one of them a call.”

  Betsy still couldn’t believe she’d told her that. But it felt so good to turn on her heels and strut off with her head high.

  She’d
barely taken a few steps when Stephanie’s threatening words struck a powerful blow from behind. “You’ll regret this, Betsy Alexander.”

  On the drive to the office it occurred to Betsy men weren’t the only segment of the human species that weren’t to be trusted. Stephanie Rogers was a bigger cheat than any man she’d ever encountered. Betsy felt relief to be rid of her. Now all she had to do was face Mary with a summation of the meeting and hope she didn’t strangle her.

  “You’re smiling. You look rested. And you’re wearing your lucky dress.” Mary greeted Betsy from her seat behind her desk when she entered the front office of the two story building.

  “Right on two counts,” Betsy said and plopped into one of the two contemporary chairs in front of her partner’s desk.

  “You didn’t sleep well?”

  Betsy sat up straight, crossed her legs and pulled the hem of the floral designed dress over her knee. Not sure if she was stalling to gain courage or searching for the easiest way to tell her friend to start clearing out her desk.

  “Betsy, what happened?”

  Betsy finally looked up into the normally pale brown eyes that darkened with alarm. “Summing it up in a nutshell, Steph is no longer one of our clients.”

  “You couldn’t talk her into signing an extension?”

  Betsy stared into her lap and fidgeted with the hem of her dress. “The truth is, she got me so fired up that when she offered, I refused.”

  “Oh my God! What do you suppose Skylar Blakewood is coming in here for?”

  Betsy saw the look of fascination on Mary’s face and tilted her head around facing the window. Through the ceiling to floor glass, she saw her mystery man from the open house striding across the street and heading for the front door to their building.

  “That’s Skylar Blakewood?” Betsy hoped she’d heard Mary wrong.